


Ashes & Temples

by Lizbug



Series: The Siren Call [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dog Dean, Gen, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Skinwalker Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizbug/pseuds/Lizbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Silver Creek.<br/>It's been 8 years since the Winchesters first met Jack O'Neill. 8 years since Dean decided he would have to leave his family to keep them safe. Now he's about to step completely off the path and wander into a whole new destiny.<br/>Title taken from “Horatius at the Bridge” by Thomas Babington, Lord Macaulay.<br/>Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit.<br/>Rated for language.<br/>Please Read & Review<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Memo

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Feel free to point out any mistakes. ConCrit always welcome.

 

 

**The Memo**

**StarGate Command, May 2002**

There was a single sheet of paper held in Major General George S. Hammond’s hand and a perplexed expression on his face when Jack entered the office. That single, unassuming piece of paper didn’t look important, in fact when Jack had written it he’d tried to make it look as unimportant as possible. Nevertheless, on that paper rested the fate of someone very important, not perhaps to the world although that remained to be seen, but definitely to Jack. In fact, that paper held the key to the safety of one of the few surviving people not on base that Jack cared about. With that in mind he covered his concern with a whole bushel of insubordinate charm and raised a querying eyebrow at his superior.

Hammond handed the paper over with an enquiring look of his own and with his tone hovering somewhere between a question and a statement asked, “This is from you?” Jack perused the sheet, which contained an interesting mix of military jargon and intelligence community double speak, before finally replying, “That’s me sir. O’Neill, two L’s”.

He returned the paper to Hammond and awaited judgement. “You want to use codenames?” In truth the idea had presented itself to Jack when they had first began to have trouble with the NID. It was a way to protect the identities of the SGC personnel. Now that 2nd Lieutenant Dean Winchester was finally getting assigned to Cheyenne he had a little more incentive to make sure his plan was actually implemented. Besides, Jack kind of missed having a call-sign, although his suggestion of random, computer generated codenames probably meant that returning to his previous handle was unlikely. Still, maybe he’d get something cool this time around.

***

He should have known better. No sooner had the memo been sent than the SGC grapevine had been hard at work. The Naming Ceremony had been reinstated before Jack had had a chance to walk down the corridor. A week later and he was, once again, the proud bearer of “Tools”, a badge of honour he’d carried since his first enemy contact.

Most of the Air Force personnel had regained their former call-signs, which meant that Carter had returned to “Cosmo” and General Hammond to “Torch”. A circumstance which had led to more than a few hurriedly concealed sniggers.

Still, the new rule had been implemented and there were now no personnel names used on Earth outside of the mountain and everyone in the SGC purportedly worked elsewhere, on paper at any rate. Hopefully it would be enough to obfuscate any Hunter on Dean’s trail, at the very least it was some protection against the ever present threat of The Trust.

The master list of call-signs was buried deep within the mountain’s archives, where even the hardiest of pencil pushers feared to tread.

***

SG-1 was gathered in front of the gate, readying the gear for a routine mission to P5S-138, when the orientation tour of new personnel came through. Daniel busied himself checking his equipment, there were some interesting ruins that he intended to explore. The layout was fascinating, suggesting more ruins to be discovered if he could figure out where to look. _Another paper I’ll never publish._

The ten new arrivals milled about the gate room, looking at the giant metal ring with mingled curiosity and awe. A young marine stepped onto the ramp, skirting the heavily loaded field remote expeditionary device. The influx was all military, a fact that Daniel had lamented bitterly when he’d seen the staffing list. Despite nearly five years working almost exclusively with military personnel he still didn’t really get on with the command structure of the SGC. Sure he liked them individually, well, most of them anyway, okay less than half, and he was smart enough to know that Jack and Sam shielded him from the majority of their more belligerent compatriots. Of course it didn’t help that there was a preponderance of arrogant, self-important, as-, “Hey Pyro!”

Daniel looked up in time to see Jack smile in welcome and step away from the F.R.E.D, clapping the young marine on the shoulder. “How’s the family?” The young man shrugged, his own return smile not reaching his eyes, “Fine sir, Thank you.” He was too young to have served with O’Neill before, Daniel decided, not to mention a marine, which was odd because Jack’s friends in the military seemed to be almost exclusively people from his black ops days.

Jack didn’t seem to notice the marine’s cool response because he kept right on talking, asking if the marine had been introduced to his team yet (no sir), whether he’d completed his simulated off-world training (yes sir), and whether he knew that his team was assigned to come to P5S-138 with them (yes sir). Since the gate room was the last stop, and Jack had absconded with one of their number possibly to find SG-15 since that was the team that was accompanying them off-world, the rest of the tour group also scattered to their duties, or whatever.

Daniel returned to his packing with a frown, a glance at Carter satisfying him that, whoever this knuckle-dragger was, she didn’t know either. “Ah Digger, there you are.” _Stupid codenames!_ Daniel looked up into the brown eyed gaze of Major Ben Pierce. He was smirking, presumably enjoying Daniel’s disgruntlement at the now ubiquitous call-signs. “Is everything ready to go?”

Daniel took advantage of his height for once and forced Pierce to look up at him, “Yes Major. We’re ready whenever you are. Although I still don’t know why you’re coming with us.” The major gave up trying to stretch his deficient height and conceded defeat, becoming the first soldier to use Daniel’s name since they’d found out that he hated his call-sign. “Well Dr Jackson, since I have two new team members to train for off-world travel a nice little sightseeing trip is just what SG-15 needs. Besides, you don’t expect Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter to fetch and carry for you do you? Not when I’ve got a nice green marine lieutenant to break in.” Daniel returned the man’s grin, “I guess that explains it then.” Maybe he could cope with the extra military presence on his dig if he had some help with the heavy lifting.


	2. The Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Darkladymo for the wonderful beta work  
> Any mistakes, like the fog on the Tyne, are all mine. Feel free to point them out.  
> A list of the call-signs used in this chapter are in the notes at the bottom, let me know if you'd prefer to have a master list in a separate chapter instead.  
> Also first one to guess what Teal'c's call-sign is gets to name an OC :)

**The Haze**

**P5S-138**

 

Dean hunched further down into the leaves, ducking under the branches that grazed his skull. He cocked his head, listening to the world around him. An alien world. He could hardly believe it, even with all the rigmarole that the brass  had put him through, the briefings, the special training, the rainforest of paperwork, he had never truly thought that he would be standing on another world. He dropped to one knee and dug his fingers into the rich loam of the forest floor.

“Finished communing with nature Winchester?” The voice of his CO dragged his thoughts away from the marvel surrounding him and he glanced up, squinting against the glare of P5S-138’s flamboyant sun . Everything seemed brighter here, from the sun to the greenery that shimmered in a heat haze. A trickle of sweat dripped off Dean’s nose and he resisted the urge to brush it away _._

“Just checking the soil quality sir. Never know when you might have to set up an artillery battery.” Four years at Annapolis followed by another two at MarSoc , the marines’ Special Forces training programme, had left him finely skilled in the art of military bull-crap.

The Major’s mouth twitched as he returned Dean’s unabashed gaze. “Uh huh. And how is the ground quality Lieutenant?” The rest of the team wound forward through the trees as Dean stood and repositioned his P90.

“Fair to middling sir.”

 

Major “Birdie” Pierce and Airman “Boost” Dwight had already made this trip a couple of times so they led  the way through the dense greenery. The birds fell silent at their approach, taking wing as they advanced further. Breaks in the canopy allowed bright sunlight to burst through, illuminating patches of the rainforest floor  where riots of colourful flowers basked in the tropical warmth. 

They followed a winding track between the trunks, Dean and his fellow newbie Sergeant Adam Lehrner trying not to gawp too obviously and embarrass themselves on their first off-world mission. It was a simple enough mission brief, go to some ruins that SG-1 had discovered on their first trip here and fetch and carry for some archaeologist guy. Luckily most of the equipment was already there, Dean pitied the poor suckers  who’d had to carry heavy kit through the compact trees and up a steady incline.

 

At the edge of the tree line Major Pierce came to a sudden stop. Dean sniffed the air tentatively, finding no trace of anything that might alarm his CO. He stepped forward, his longer legs quickly catching up with Airman Dwight. They broached the jungle and within a matter of yards the ground fell sharply away to reveal a large grassy plain of undulating hills crisscrossed with narrow streams. The cliff they currently stood on formed a long arcing boundary. Dean turned, his eyes seeking the source of the low roar that he’d been hearing for the last several kilometres. Near the middle of the curve, water tumbled down the glassy black rock face and plummeted to the ground 200 feet below. Dean scrambled forward for a closer look, a delighted grin tugging at his lips. Underneath the waterfall, protected in the lee of the eroded crag were the ruins. Squat, rectangular and stacked like a cake, the two storey building was constructed out of some sort of white stone which was completely out of keeping with the dark basalt of the cliffs. He could make out the figures of Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c underneath the overhanging roof. Sheltered by the short columns that encircled the structure. He tried to search for threats, he really did, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from the mesmerising thrum of the water. Ultimately, it was more movement that attracted his attention. One of the science team, _Dr Bailey maybe,_ was clambering over some large white stone blocks that lay strewn at the base of the cliff. According to the mission brief they had at some point in the distant past been stairs.  

 

“Awesome.” Dean breathed as he let his gaze wander over the spectacle. He glanced at Lehrner, expecting an answering grin but found the brawny man’s eyes fixed firmly in the middle distance and a frown on his face. Following his line of sight Dean searched the landscape, a tell-tale glint catching his eye, “Sir? Is there a reason we’ve come in a big circle up a steep hill?”

At the tail end of the bluff, where the steep incline transformed into the meandering hills of the plain stood a large grey metal circle. The Stargate, clearly visible from where they now stood and in a straight line from the ruins below. Dean sighed as Rebecca Dwight let out an unladylike snort before dissolving into unrestrained laughter, _oh well, it was worth it for the view._

 

***

 

Major Pierce regretted his decision about a third of the way down the cliff. He hated rappelling, the harness always pinched in the most unpleasant places. He and Boost  had had the idea about twenty minutes before SG-15’s departure; what better way to haze his new recruits than a 20 click ruck march uphill followed by a 200 foot vertical descent? What he’d overlooked in his enthusiasm was that he’d be doing the damn thing too.

He idled for a moment with the excuse of checking the positions of his team. Winchester was perched on the precipice, reclining into thin air like he was kicking back to watch the game. He was flirting up a storm with Airman Dwight as she clipped on to her top rope. Her soft laughter drifted down to him as Lehrner stepped up to the edge, his own laugh a deep bass rumble. _Well at least the team’s bonding nicely,_ Pierce shifted uncomfortably in his harness, the nylon digging into his crotch, and started belaying himself down again.

 

“YIPPEE KI-YAY, mother fucker!” Lehrner catapulted himself from the ledge, followed by the laughter from his team mates, _god damn Marines._ The Marine sergeant was rapidly followed by Boost, her curly blonde ponytail swinging as she pushed off from the rock. Pierce smiled to himself as he saw Winchester checking his team on the way down, the young lieutenant might be untried, but he definitely had his head screwed on right. Finding out such things was, of course, the other reason for their little detour.

 

They  touched down more or less at the same time, quickly disengaging from the ropes and spread into skirmish formation with the bluff at their backs. _No muss, no fuss,_ Pierce thought, pleased at his new team’s performance.

“You gunning for a new nickname Lehrner?” Winchester’s teasing smile guaranteed a response from his fellow Marine, “Come on man, I mean, ‘Slow’? It’s so predictable.”

Pierce joined in the quiet laughter, “You’ve got no chance Sergeant. You’re the only Lehrner on base.” Pierce’s own call sign had led him to take up golf, if only so he could have an excuse for it other than the unfortunate transport flight where several live chickens had gotten loose in the cockpit. ‘Birdie’ wasn’t the worst call sign he could have got out of that debacle that was for sure. _Speaking of call signs..._ “How’d you get such a cool call sign anyway Winchester?” The man had barely been on base an hour before Colonel O’Neil had taken to calling him ‘Pyro ’.

Winchester met his gaze with a slow shrug, “I’m good at blowing stuff up sir.” The Marine’s green eyes slid away from his almost immediately.

_Interesting, there’s definitely a story there._ Winchester started moving towards the ruins, effectively ending the conversation. Boost and Slow followed along with Pierce, picking their way through the small streams that criss-crossed the area.

 

***

 

O’Neill occupied the only patch of dry in the whole damn place, or at least it was the only bit he’d found. The temple was pretty enough, if you liked that sort of thing, and the view was spectacular with the waterfall shimmering over their heads forming hundreds of tiny rainbows in the sunlight, but  the damp just got into everything. Carter had taken one look and then moved all of her gadgetry as far away as she could get. Even Teal’c looked uncomfortable in the clinging dank, or he would if he’d allow his facial muscles to actually form expressions. Only Daniel and the archaeology team looked happy, exclaiming over Mayan this and Mesoamerican that. Of course, O’Neill couldn’t really hear them very well over the tonnes of water pouring over his head.

He peered through the fine haze, “Well, finally!” He stood and moved to the very edge of his dry spot, “Birdie, you made it. What took you so long?” He’d been expecting SG-15 for the past couple of hours.

The diminutive major  was clambering up the giant staircase, followed by his even more diminutive comms tech, Airman Rebecca Dwight, “Hey Boost, need a boost?” He received a narrow eyed glare from espresso brown eyes and then was summarily ignored. He was still chuckling when Dean crested the rise, the young Marine flashing him a bright smile as he pulled himself up. _Still the same,_ Jack thought as he watched Dean turn and offer his hand to Lehrner, not that the big sergeant needed the help, _Uniform suits him._

It had been eight years since he’d first met the Winchesters, when he’d been trapped in an abandoned mine shaft and on a Wendigo’s menu . Dean had been all elbows and attitude and frightening proficiency with a homemade flame thrower. It had made perfect sense to Jack to suggest that Dean join the Marines when other Hunters had taken issue with Dean’s “softer side ”. Actually, Jack had suggested the Air Force when his ability to turn into a german shepherd at will had put Dean in danger, a crazy old Hunter had tried to murder him, but USAF hadn’t gone down well with Dean, or his Dad. Semper Fi all the way with those two. That Dean had finally made it to the SGC had made all Jack’s scheming worthwhile, _boy done good._

 

Jack broke out of his reverie to find Pierce looking at him quizzically, “Well then, let’s put you to work.” Major Pierce was supposed to be his relief, but, even with the damp, off-world beat paperwork any day, besides half of his team were staying. He led the way inside the temple, following the faint sounds of geek-speak and pointing things out as he went, “Tent, column, wall, gizmo, ‘nother tent,” He carried on for a while as they passed through the entranceway and into the temple proper. The bright sunshine from outside cast eerie shadows as they crossed into the gloom. They hadn’t gone far when the darkness was replaced by the steady glow of halogen lamps, the ancient walls cast into stark relief by the expedition team’s equipment. The sounds of the scientists were clearer now, their excited voices rebounding off the time-worn stone.

 

“...These are two completely disparate cultures, separated by time and distance and yet here they are clearly represented on an alien world!” Daniel was holding forth , gesticulating at the rear wall of the chamber, the same wall he’d been staring at for days. The rest of the science team was clustered around, scratching their collective heads.

“Daniel!” O’Neill called, as he shouldered his way through the assembled ranks, “Got some extra hands for you. This is Sergeant Adam Lehrner and Lieutenant Dean Winchester. AKA Slow and Pyro if you happen to put them in your report” . Jack knew there was no way he was going to get Daniel to actually use the call-signs in anything but an official capacity.

 

***

Daniel turned at the sound of Jack’s voice, frowning at SG-15 as they ambled in behind. He checked his watch, “Weren’t you supposed to be here an hour ago?” He kind of wished they hadn’t turned up at all, the last thing he needed was to be distracted by more people. He had a mystery to solve. He turned back to the inscription on the wall, there was definitely more to it than met the eye. Some hidden meaning behind the words.

“Come on Daniel, you’ll like them, I promise. Winchester here speaks Latin,” Jack looked at him smugly, as if producing a Marine that could speak Latin was some grand achievement.

  _Although…_ he cast another glance at the carving and then turned, examining Winchester. He was tall, about Jack’s height, and ridiculously pretty. Like the guys that advertised underwear or cologne pretty. Dirty blond hair spiked messily above intense green eyes. He  was the same Marine that Jack had greeted so enthusiastically in the gate room. Daniel was curious as to why Jack was pushing him to meet the guy, the Colonel was standing there with his arm folded looking like a… _proud father?_

“Latin huh?”

 The Marine shifted, casting an accusing glance at Jack before nodding reluctantly. Daniel took a moment to think before reciting one of his grandfather Nick’s favourite sayings, ‘it is better to die like wolves than live like dogs,’ “Okay. Melius est mori sicut lupum, quam vivere sicut canum.”

 Those green eyes widened for a moment before Winchester replied, “Cave canum,” beware of the dogs, “sunt venatores,” they are hunters.

 The kid put a little extra emphasis on ‘hunters’, like it had some sort of significance that Daniel didn’t know about. “Alright then Dean, what do you make of this?” he gestured towards the wall panel as the rest of the science team dispersed, cheated of their entertainment.

 

It was maybe a metre high, a particularly fine example of a Mayan stone carving with one strange and infuriating difference. The circular frieze itself was fairly straightforward, it had depictions of people and animals interconnected with intricate patterns, much like the ones found on Earth, but below it was a blocky script that Daniel had seen before. The language of the Ancients, the gate builders, and in typically cryptic fashion it said, “Non omnes vagantes aberrarunt,” the words rolled of his tongue.

“Not all who wander are lost?”

Daniel tossed a glance at the Marine, “Right. Any ideas?” 

The Marine looked at the frieze for a moment frowning and Daniel had the sudden wild hope that he might have the solution, “Not a one sir.”

Disappointing but not unexpected, “Well, I guess you’d be better off fetching and carrying then,” Daniel sighed as the Marines began to make themselves useful lugging heavy crates. _Back to work._

 

***

 

They’d stopped for something to eat before Daniel found himself next to Winchester again, staring up at the great frieze that dominated the chamber. “So how did you learn to speak Latin anyway?”

The Marine’s gaze slid towards Daniel before returning to their contemplation. He shrugged, a slow roll of the shoulders, but his body had tensed nevertheless. “My father taught me.” The easy answer belied the body language.

Daniel thought back to the lack of enthusiasm Winchester had showed when Jack had asked after his family back at the SGC. _They don’t call me Digger for nothing_. “Your  dad, huh? Why did he teach you Latin? Not much call for it nowadays. ” He had the man’s full attention now, green eyes boring into his.

“Cor prudens possidebit scientiam et auris sapientium quaerit doctrinam.”

Daniel recognised a bible verse when he heard one, he dredged that one up from the recesses of his memory. “Proverbs?”

The Marine’s mouth gave a little twitch, “18:15 . The heart of the prudent acquires knowledge, but the ears of the wise seek it out.”

Daniel wondered if Winchester had learned Latin the same way Daniel learnt to translate hieroglyphs, absent-mindedly dumped among piles of books. Probably not, more likely a thrumming voice and a hard hand if the Marine’s rigid posture was the result.

 

They settled into uncomfortable silence as Winchester munched his way through an MRE. Between one mouthful and the next the young lieutenant gestured towards the fresco, “It’s a map.” He said it nonchalantly, as if he was making a comment on the weather, and then he dusted off his pants and strolled through the archway.

Daniel looked at the panel again, the eagle at the top, the figures below. “No, it’s not.” He stared at it, searching for some clue as to what the Marine had seen, “This makes no sense” there was absolutely nothing to suggest that it was a map, nothing at all. “It’s not a map. Why would it be a map?” He glowered some more, _he said it just to mess with me…maybe…didn’t he?_ “Damn.” Daniel left the chamber and went in search of the Marine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call-signs:  
> Major Ben Pierce - Birdie  
> Airman Rebecca Dwight - Boost  
> Sergeant Adam Lehrner - Slow  
> 2nd Lieutenant Dean Winchester - Pyro  
> Dr Daniel Jackson - Digger


	3. The Map

**The Map**

“Okay, what makes you think it’s a map?”

 

Jack turned round at the sound of a raised voice to find Daniel brandishing a finger in Winchester’s face. He had him backed up against the crumbling brickwork of the temple wall and from the stony eyed look on Dean’s face, it wasn’t appreciated. The fact that Daniel had managed to back him up at all said something about the massive amount of restraint Dean was demonstrating. They’d had to work on it pretty extensively the last time Jack had been over at Singer’s Salvage. A kid who could turn into a German shepherd at the drop of a hat tended to stick out in basic training, the exact opposite of everything they were trying to achieve.

 

Ever since he’d first met the Winchesters in Silver Creek, he’d been working to keep Dean off of the Hunter’s collective radar. That had been one hell of a fishing trip!

 

First he’d been kidnapped by this strange, emaciated creature called a wendigo. Then he’d been trussed up and hung in the thing’s pantry, an old, abandoned silver mine. Luckily, this crazy fifteen-year-old with a homemade flame thrower and his grumpy dad had shown up and rescued him. That had been his first introduction to the supernatural world.

 

Of course it hadn’t ended there, how could it when the Winchesters were involved? While Dean had been recuperating from some bizarre kink in his metabolism that had almost made him starve to death, another Hunter had come along and tried to kill him! All because he was a skin-walker. Jack had struggled to wrap his head around it at first, the kid could turn into a dog for crying out loud.

 

Anyway, Jack had come up with this great plan to keep Dean away from any of the ‘shoot first, question later’ style of Hunters and gain a kick ass marine for the Stargate Programme at the same time. Not that he’d known the Stargate even existed back then; his first mission to Abydos hadn’t been until a month after they’d met. It had taken a lot of hard work from Dean and calling in a few favours from Jack, but they’d got Dean into the USNA with a Presidential endorsement no less! Jack had almost burst with pride when the kid graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering and a Commission with Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.

 

It hadn’t all been smooth sailing. Close quarters and big secrets were a tricky balancing act and they’d all spent some sleepless nights worrying about Dean’s willpower. Especially when Dean had been diverted into the Special Operations Programme, if they’d thought the summer cruises had been hard, the year with MARSOC had been a whole new level of constant scrutiny. Jack had all but panicked every time the phone rang. Still the fact remained that here they were, eight years later and Dean was still alive and kicking and looking like his incredible self-control was on the verge of evaporating in a cloud of steam and exasperation.

 

Jack decided it was time to step in before Winchester decided that finger was far too tempting a lever and broke Daniel’s arm for him. “Alright kids, settle down.” Jack decided hands on Daniel was probably better than hands on Dean and gently tugged the archaeologist back by his collar until Dean relaxed minutely, enough to tell Jack that he was out of the kid’s personal space.

 

Daniel almost headed straight back in again before he was checked by Jack’s shoulder, “Daniel! Why don’t you share with the rest of the class?”

 

Daniel finally turned his attention from the beleaguered marine as if only just noticing the spectacle he was creating. “ _He_ said it was a map! It can’t possibly be a map. There’s nothing…NOTHING… to even suggest that it _might_ be a map!”

 

Jack held up a hand to halt the tirade. “Okay?” he drawled, noting his confusion mirrored in the faces around him. “So what makes him think it’s a map?!”

 

Daniel squawked, his face flushed and clammy.

 

“Winchester?” The kid was hunched in on himself, obviously way out of his comfort zone.

 

“It just looks like a map sir?” He rubbed his neck self-consciously, obviously expecting another diatribe from Dr. Jackson.

 

“Well okay. Let’s take a look-see.”

 

They all trooped back into the chamber, Jack secretly rooting for it to be a map even over Daniel’s vitriolic assertion that it couldn’t be. One, because it would give him something to do other than sitting in the damp and two, because even with a degree under his belt Dean had never had much faith in his smarts, too many years of being judged on his looks, and this would maybe give him a bit more confidence. Especially with all these genius science types about, Carter could make Stephen Hawking feel inferior.

 

Once in the chamber they all stood back examining at the frieze while Winchester explained his theory, “You see where some of the design is more sticking out? Well I don’t think that’s weathering ‘cause, you know, no weather.” Dean’s head came up as he talked, gradually gaining confidence, “So I figure that they must be markers or something, little clusters of dots that kinda look like…”

 

Jack could see the small raised dots that he’s talking about, scattered over the mural, and gathered together like, “Constellations.”

 

Dean shot him a grateful look and ducked his head again as Daniel swept forward,

“Where? I don’t see it?”

 

Jack gave a little grumble as he stepped towards the frieze, certain that Daniel was just being stubborn. He reached up and brushed his hand against the raised group of dots hidden in the twin warriors at the bottom of the carving, suddenly the clusters lit up bright blue. “What the - ?”

 

The chamber filled with sound as those gathered exclaimed and jumped back at the sudden light. The light faded almost immediately as Jack removed his hand in surprise and the wall was exactly as it was before. The entire science team ran forward excitedly, taking readings and running their hands all over the thing. It didn’t light up again. 

Eventually, Carter managed to wrangle the scientists back out of the way, there’s absolutely nothing in their readings to suggest anything untoward. She’d got that ‘curious’ face on, the one that Jack hates as it only ever means one of two things, a boring afternoon or imminent danger. Jack always tries not to hope for imminent danger but he’s had some really boring afternoons waiting for Carter to figure out her latest conundrum. “The energy must have dissipated so quickly that we can’t get any residual readings, or it’s something we don’t have the tools to measure yet.” She was still staring at the frieze like it held the key to the universe, it probably did. “It must have reacted to something Colonel O’Neill possesses that the other people who touched the frieze don’t have.”

As one they all turned to Jack, it’s at times like these that Jack can’t help but mimic one Robert Singer, “Balls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Darkladymo for the beta.  
> All mistakes are mine as is the British spelling, sorry


	4. Celestial Navigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My exams are finally over and to celebrate I'm finally posting a chapter! Yay!!  
> I have a whole month before term starts again so hopefully I'll manage to carve out more writing time :)

**Celestial Navigation**

 

Luckily, it hadn’t taken Carter long to point out that it was statistically improbable that Jack was the only one to make the damn nightlight turn on and systematically test everyone.

 

Unluckily, only Jack and Dean had had any success in getting it to light up. Which had Carter muttering about genetic markers and blood tests. That in turn had had Winchester ready to bolt before Jack had vetoed it, or at least put it off until later.

 

As it stood, only Jack, General Hammond, and Dr. Fraiser knew about Dean’s ‘condition’ with Pierce and the rest of SG-15 slated to find out as soon as Dean gave the okay. Even that many people had been a struggle to get Dean to agree to and Jack had basically had to get Singer to bully him into it. A single person at USNA, then a second at MARSOC had had both Dean and John nearly hyperventilating. Blood tests were definitely not on Dean’s agenda.

 

Still, now that they knew that both of them could activate the panel it meant that it was Dean that had to stand there with his hand on the thing and not Jack. This meant that Jack could stand back and look at the pretty pattern the lights made. He was absolutely certain it was a star map, the telescope on his roof wasn’t just to spy on his neighbours, and Daniel had already found Ancient numbers embedded in the design which had previously been invisible. Which led Jack to only one conclusion.

 

“Celestial navigation.”

 

Only Carter took any notice, “Sir?” He spared her and Teal’c a glance as the science team bustled around them.

 

“Celestial navigation. The action of finding one's way by observing the sun, moon, and stars. Damn handy when you’ve been shot down in a jungle.” The only problem was, he was fairly sure they were going to have to do it backwards. Instead of finding his own location, he was going to have figure out the location of something else. Thank God he had Carter. “Winchester was right, it is a map.”

 

It had taken Carter all of ten minutes to figure out a program to let her calculate the exact GPS coordinates of something using the principles of celestial navigation. Which was kind of irritating seeing as how it once took him an hour to figure out his own coordinates after a crash landing. Of course he hadn’t had a computer at the time, he reassured himself, just a sextant and a half burnt almanac. Now they just had to wait another ten hours or so for the right time of night, or as Jack liked to call; it star-rise.

 

Since this was once again an exploration mission he’d sent the science team home, well, that and they were downright annoying. He’d also sent back SG-15, with the exception of Winchester. He didn’t have an excuse for that other than that Dean had activated the star map thingy too, he just wanted some time with his boy. Dean had been a little off since he’d arrived on base and Jack hadn’t had the time to force it out of him yet.

 

“Alright kids, who’s for poker?”

 

***

 

Dean was playing poker on an alien world. Which just went to show that everything was the same in the military no matter where you were. He was now roughly three hours into the ‘hurry up and wait’ portion of this mission, this came almost directly after the ‘running and heavy lifting’ portion with a brief interlude of ‘what the hell?’

 

The funny thing was, it wasn’t all that different from his life as a Hunter. Except, you know, better pay and three squares a day. Not that he was thinking about Hunting, because that led to thinking about Sammy and the massive fight they’d had on his last leave. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Sam to go to college, he just wanted him to be safe. But before he knew it Sam was ripping into him and dad about being normal and Dean being allowed to leave, and he’d tried to explain that he hadn’t wanted to go but that had just made it worse. Led to being called ‘daddy’s little soldier’ and told never to call Sammy again. “Don’t call, Dean.” The last words he’d heard from his brother in nearly a year. But, he wasn’t thinking about that. Because he, Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter and Teal’c were playing poker and it was lucky that Teal’c was an alien and only just learning because damn did that guy have a good poker face.

 

***

 

There was something wrong with the kid, Jack mused as he considered his discard. A tightness round the eyes, like maybe he was in pain and hiding it. But there was no way he could have managed to get himself injured since coming through the gate. Which meant it was another kind of hurt altogether. Jack searched his memory for the last time he’d seen the kid look like that. It wasn’t hard to find. A fifteen year old Dean, bruised and bloodied, thinking he was evil because he’d killed a man who was trying to kill him. Nothing Jack had said had been enough, not when the kid’s dad had had a brain-mouth disengage right at the time Dean needed him. Not for the first time, Jack suppressed the urge to find John Winchester and beat him with a stick. Of course, Sammy was another option. Dean’s little brother was pretty much the centre of his universe. Jack had wanted to kick him a few times too. It was bad enough that a derisive comment from Sam could send Dean into an agonising spiral of self-doubt, but the youngest Winchester didn’t even notice when he did it. So, yeah, there were a couple of options.

 

Jack wanted to sit Dean down and ferret the information out of him. What was that old proverb? If you save a man’s life you are responsible for it? Not in Jack’s experience. It was definitely the other way around. Dean had saved Jack’s life and it was Jack’s responsibility to make sure the kid had a good one. Of course, if he asked Dean what was wrong there was little chance of him actually getting a reasonable answer. He was more likely to get a flip comment about chick flick moments. Not to mention that if he pulled Dean aside he’d attract the attention of his team. A curious Carter was the worst thing to have on your hands when you were keeping secrets. No he couldn’t ask Dean. He’d have to wait for Dean to bring it up. Wouldn’t that be a chilly day in hell?

 

Maybe Bobby knew something? That was it. He’d call Bobby when they got back Earth-side. If nothing else he’d be able to spread the worry around a little. Damn Winchesters, always complicating your life.

 

***

 

Dean tossed another M&M into the pot and did a quick visual sweep of the area. “Erm, Colonel.” He gradually eased to a standing position, resting his hand on his side arm. O’Neill understood immediately, as did Carter and Teal’c who went from completely relaxed to fully alert in a microsecond. At the bottom of the waterfall were several figures, picking their way delicately among the rocks.

 

“Well, where in the hell did they come from?” O’Neill sounded exasperated but not unduly alarmed so Dean left his weapon holstered.

 

Ready to draw at a moment’s notice, he scanned the area, detecting more movement behind a cluster of rocks, “Over there sir. Looks like a cave maybe.”

 

O’Neill shaded his eyes against the glare of the low hanging sun, “Huh. Well I guess we should go say hello.”

 

Carter threw him a sidelong glance, “You don’t think that’ll scare them sir? I mean, they obviously thought we’d all left with the others. They haven’t shown themselves the other times we were here.”

 

O’Neill cocked his head and Dean got the feeling he was about to be dragged into something, “Are you saying I’m intimidating Carter? Winchester! Do I seem intimidating to you?”

 

Dean sighed, he’d forgotten what it was like being with Jack, kind of like being around Uncle Bobby but with more sarcasm, “No sir. You’re a teddy bear. A grumpy, irascible teddy bear.”

 

Jack hit him with a look of feigned hurt and turned back to the strange people gathering at the foot of the waterfall.

 

They hadn’t noticed the SG team yet and were dispersed along the river edge. Dean’s eyes could pick out the exquisite detailing in their clothes, the men in short skirts banded with brightly coloured designs, the women in longer skirts and tunics. They were a riot of colour with bright feathers and animal skins adding to the decoration, the spray off the waterfall glistening on bare skin sheened red with the radiance of the sun.

 

He didn’t get the chance to see them closer.

 

Just as the team started moving down the slope, there was a distant thrum. And then again, seven times in quick succession. It was followed by the whoosh of an activating Stargate and then, almost instantaneously by a high pitched whine. Several small cylindrically winged craft came bursting through the event horizon, vectoring up and away as soon as they passed through.


	5. Captives

** **

**Captives**

 

The natives’ immediate reaction had been to sprint for the caves when the gate first opened, but they’d been caught too far away when the first craft came through and had now scattered in panic. They were running a losing race against the nimble vessels, sprinting with frantic and futile purpose.

 

Every so often, one of the ships would emit a narrow blue beam and a native would fall to the ground as the energy field dispersed through their body. Not unlike they were being shot with zat’nik’tel blasts. O’Neill hoped they were just unconscious.

 

“What in hell are they?” O’Neill was trying to track the crafts’ movements, but there were too many of them darting about the sky.

 

“They are needle-threaders O’Neill.” Teal’c had crouched behind a pile of rocks, staff weapon at the ready.

 

O’Neill briefly recalled the last time he’d heard that name. General Hammond raving about how the nimble Goa’uld craft were designed to travel through the Stargate, or ‘thread the needle’ as the Jaffa called it. He also remembered something about the extremely high attrition rate making them a tad impractical.

 

“Needle-threaders? I thought they went out of use a hundred years ago?” The rest of the team had taken advantage of the scarce protection of the rocks to try and keep out of sight,

 

“It appears not O’Neill.” 

 

O’Neill needed to move his team back to the relative safety of the temple. They were too exposed out here, one of the craft could spot them at any moment.

“Uh, guys?” Jackson exited the temple, attracted by the unfamiliar noise. He let out a stifled yelp as Winchester yanked him down to cover.

 

Jack peeked over the top of the rocks, they needed to get to better cover. “Daniel, nice of you to join us. Get back inside.”

 

O’Neill brought up the rear as they darted between cover, reaching the deep shadows of the temple entrance just as one of the Threaders screamed past.

 

“So what’d I miss?” Daniel’s face was cloaked in shadow, his back pressed up against the temple wall. He peered out at the canyon below, keeping a wary eye on the suddenly hostile sky.

 

“Natives. Goa’uld.” Winchester gave a very succinct summary, before fixing Jack with his ‘Trust you with my life’ stare. “What are we going to do about the natives, sir?”

 

 

***

 

It had only been a few short minutes but all of the natives were on the ground, scattered around the valley. Dean could make out three men and two women, lying where they’d fallen.

 

The Goa’uld craft did another few sweeps, searching for any they’d missed. Finally, their search complete they landed one by one, forming a perfectly spaced line across the mouth of the valley and sealing the SG team off from the Gate and any chance at escape.

 

There was a sound like grinding metal and a single figure emerged from each of the craft. Dean leaned forward a little, he wanted a better view but it was crucial he stayed out of sight. This was his first glimpse of an enemy Jaffa and he needed to get a good look. The armoured figures clambered down from the graft, each movement slick with long practice. There was a thump every time one reached the ground, the weight of their armour adding to their already heavily muscled bulk. As one they turned away from the craft and began making their way into the valley. Dean was too far away to make out the tattoos on their foreheads, he could just see a darker blur where the sigil indicating service to their god marked their skin. He began looking for weak points in the armour where a blade or a bullet could do some damage. Vulnerable hard to protect areas like the groin or axilla.

 

Dean was under no illusions as to his purpose at the SGC. He wasn’t a genius like Carter and the science guys, he wasn’t there to explore civilizations like Dr Jackson. Sure he was good with languages; his dad had seen to that by drilling Latin into his head. An aptitude that he had built on with extensive linguistics training at Annapolis. But, first and foremost he was a weapons specialist. A soldier. His primary purpose was to keep his people, his _planet_ , safe. He was there to engage the enemy.

 

Eight Jaffa were walking away from the craft and towards the prone figures. As they walked, slotted metal rose from their armoured collars forming large metal head-dresses.

 

He scoffed, not only were those things impractical, they were in the shape of dog heads with large pointed ears. As if any dog would voluntarily stick around those guys.

 

The Jaffa were stalking towards the unconscious natives and dragging them into a pile at the base of the cliff where two of them stood guard. “Tesem guards.” Teal’c was peering down at the spectacle with a look of disgust on his face.

 

“Tesem? As in the Ancient Egyptian hunting dogs?” Dr Jackson was looking as well, along with Major Carter and the Colonel.

 

“Indeed. They serve Wepwawet. He was once a very powerful System Lord, until he was overthrown by Osiris. There is an old Jaffa legend that says Wepwawet once controlled a vast army of great wolf-like dogs, it is said that he himself took the form of a giant wolf when he led them into battle.”

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, sharing an uneasy look with Colonel O’Neill as Teal’c recited, “The Great Hunt came like a storm across the plains, wild and snarling. They howled as one, and all who heard them trembled, for death had come upon them. They covered the land like a rising flood and the god Wepwawet opened the path.”  Teal’c raised a single eyebrow as he glanced back towards the rest of the team. “It was believed he was dead but perhaps this is not the case Daniel Jackson.”

 

As they were speaking the needle-threaders sprang to life once more. One by one they took off and flew back through the Stargate. Leaving behind the eight Jaffa and their captives. “Well, our odds just improved.”

 

Suddenly, Dean detected movement among the rocks behind the gathered Jaffa. A young boy, he couldn’t have been more than ten, flung himself at the back of the lead Jaffa.

 

There was a clang as the boy hit and then another as the Jaffa swung his arm up to grab one of the scrawny arms that had clasped around his neck. The Jaffa swung around, the little boy’s body swinging with the motion. His small hands were grasping the steel of the neck-plate. He wailed loud and long, a juvenile war cry filled with desperation as he clawed at the Jaffa.

 

A vicious twist and a yank and the boy was in the air again, this time thrown by the Jaffa. He screamed, high pitched and pain filled.

 

A bolt of blue light hit him as he reached his zenith. The scream cut off. Dean’s eyes tracked him as he fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Dean’s hand tightened on the butt of his P90, a glance to his right showed him Colonel O’Neill’s similarly white knuckled grip.

 

He met his superior’s gaze and his heart eased, just a little, with what he saw there. “Alright kids, how do we all feel about taking a little stroll?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta, who possibly thought I'd died it had been so long since I sent her anything


	6. Firefight

** **

 

**Firefight**

 

Daniel was depressingly familiar with the plunder and pillage tactics of the Goa’uld System Lords. It had been five years since both his wife and brother-in-law had been captured and forced to serve as hosts to Goa’uld larvae. Hundreds of thousands of people across the galaxy lived and died as slaves to capricious Goa’uld masters. Several times Earth itself had come perilously close to falling to the Goa’uld threat and probably would have if not for the efforts of the SGC and the intervention of the Asgard.

The presence of yet another Goa’uld System Lord on a planet that he’d assumed was safe shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But it did. Every time.

Daniel hadn’t signed up to be a soldier. He’d wanted to prove a theory, to stop being the running joke at Archaeology conferences. Instead he was fighting a secret war for the survival of the human race. Which was why he was following Jack along the eroded gullies of dozens of intersecting streams, each foot carefully placed to make as little noise as possible. Slowly but steadily sneaking up on eight symbiotically-enhanced Jaffa.

Behind him were Carter and the new Marine Lieutenant. They moved smoothly together in that typical military way that Daniel couldn’t quite replicate even after five years with the SGC.

Carter was shooting looks at the marine, as if she couldn’t quite figure him out. Which was interesting, because Daniel couldn’t quite figure him out either. The young officer had had an instant connection with Jack, but nobody knew how they knew each other. Winchester had had long meetings with both General Hammond and Dr Fraiser, but nobody knew what they were about. He was friendly, but he gave nothing away. He’d casually mentioned that the frieze was a map even though eight scientists at the top of their fields hadn’t had even an inkling. Then he was one of only two people on site who could activate said map. Daniel wasn’t particularly suspicious by nature but he certainly had reservations about the sheer number of secrets and inconsistencies that seemed to surround Winchester. Now, to top it all off, just as the rest of the SGC personnel left they were presented with previously unknown natives and a Goa’uld System Lord that hasn’t been heard from in over a century.

Daniel glanced at Teal’c where he brought up the rear, the heavy duty firepower of the staff-weapon a familiar and reassuring presence at their back. If Teal’c shared Daniel’s misgivings, it didn’t show on his placid face. His eyes were constantly moving, watching for the danger he knew lurked nearby.

Daniel brought his attention back to the task at hand. They were just about as close to the Jaffa as they could get before they lost the cover provided by the undercut of the dry streambeds and had to approach through the long summer-dried grass of the plains. With the size of the waterfall above the ruin, Daniel always expected the grassland to be as lush and green as the forest that topped the cliff but the yellows and golds had fascinated the SGC ecologists who had waxed lyrical about the climate allowing two different biomes to coexist. Not that that mattered in the current situation, much more important was the difficulty SG-1 was going to have sneaking up on the Jaffa for the next few hundred yards.

 

***

 

Jack threw up a fist to signal a halt and signalled Carter and Winchester to circle round and provide interlocking fire. He could see movement in the grass where the captive natives were stirring. The effects of the Zat gun fire from the ships must be have been wearing off, which was both good news and bad. He needed them to be ready to move, but couldn’t risk them getting caught in the crossfire SG-1 was about to produce. Carter obviously saw the same thing and made a quick, silent suggestion of her own. Winchester, Teal’c and Daniel were all watching the interplay intently.

It sometimes surprised Jack how readily Daniel responded in military situations, five years with the SGC had changed him from the allergy ridden archaeologist he’d been before. Sometimes it made Jack a little sad to think of it, Daniel shouldn’t have had to change. Jack’s job was supposed to be making sure war never touched the civilian population, not running boot camps for non-military staff that seemed to be put in a life or death situation every other week. The rush of pride that Jack felt when Daniel finally got a tap in hand to hand had been equally matched with sadness when he’d field stripped and reassembled his once hated Beretta in less than thirty seconds. Of course, he still had the allergies, which Jack teased him mercilessly for. 

The plan set, Carter and Winchester crept off to the west, while Jack, Daniel and Teal’c stayed where they were. Both positions could provide cover for the other while leaving the natives out of the line of fire. Carter and Winchester would fire first, hopefully drawing the Jaffa towards them and allowing the rest of SG-1 to grab the captives and get them out of the way… Hopefully. Best laid plans and all that.

 

***

 

Carter fired her P90 in short three round bursts, angling it away from the people on the ground. She could hear a similar mechanical chitter from her left where Winchester was choosing his single shots more carefully. Each shot he made was greeted by a shout of pain from the beleaguered Jaffa as he used her fire to position his targets and pinpoint the weak spots in the Jaffa armour. He was possibly a little too effective. The Jaffa were stumbling back in hasty retreat instead of advancing and leaving the captives on Carter’s side instead of on the Colonel’s.

She ducked as a staff blast came a little too close for comfort, a wave of heat singed the grass next to her. She risked a glance at the marine, with three Jaffa down they had sussed out the greater threat and were concentrating their fire on the better marksman. She would be annoyed at that except that it left her more free to manoeuvre. She advanced towards the closest prone figure as a third and then a fourth P90 started chattering followed by the hollow boom of more staff blasts. Listening to the pattern of fire she realised that both O’Neill and Teal’c had copied Winchester’s tactic using the others’ fire to manipulate the Jaffa into a better position before firing with deadly accuracy.

 

Dean dove to the ground as another staff blast roared past. The remaining pair of Jaffa had abandoned their captives in favour of warding off the SG team with a constant barrage of fire, rotating their fallen comrades’ weapons along with their own. The relentless strikes were keeping Dean pinned, cut off from Carter and the rest of SG-1 who were similarly stuck. He could at least still see Carter, who was keeping her head down with the natives. The rest of SG-1 was lost to him in a haze of heat and smoke. Sweat dribbled into his eyes as he crab walked through the long grass. He edged closer to Carter, keeping his weapon ready and his eyes on the enemy. Another fireball streaked past and he had to pause again to return fire. The rat-a-tat of guns gave him easy markers for the positions of his team mates, but it didn’t help him reach them. 

The acrid stench of smoke made his nose twitch as the wind changed. The scent was heavy on the air, heavier than it had been just seconds ago. Dean’s heart rate rocketed as the implication of that sent another flood of adrenaline through his blood stream. His scream of warning was lost in the whump and roar as a wall of flame charged towards him.

 


End file.
